


hotel sounds

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Sharing a Body, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14131014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: Desmond and Clay get some time alone (together?) to try out something new.





	hotel sounds

**Author's Note:**

> * extremely brief mention of piercing needles

“A hotel room? To yourself? I'm shocked,” Clay comments as they pad in and have a meager look around. It is neither big or heavily decorated but it'll do. A once over assures that there's nothing out of place and they settle on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, well, my friends are tired of listening to me talk to myself,” Desmond replies. Sharing a body has been interesting so far and not nearly as cumbersome as Clay expected. So far the most difficult thing they have is sleeping. Desmond’s body doesn't get rest unless they're both under and Clay has trouble falling asleep. Aside from that, their situation is totally fine, even advantageous in some scenarios.

“Pretty sure your ‘friends’ just want to bang,” Clay assures. He speaks with Desmond’s mouth and voice, sure, but his dialect and tone should make it more than easy to tell when he's speaking. He supposes that's a lot to ask from Desmond’s so called friends, though.

“Whatever,” Desmond scoffs back. Clay feels the spike of jealousy that Desmond feels. He won't admit it but he loathes that he feels so alone with them and Clay doesn't blame him. After being taken away from his friends and life then isolated from these ‘friends’ through virtue of being in the animus so often, it's understandable. Desmond lays back on the bed and they learn immediately it's not overtly comfortable. He closes their eyes and after a moment, Clay palms their crotch none to discreetly.

“Clay,” Desmond says. They've masturbated before, they're both young men it was bound to come up, and the experience was certainly unique. There's something very interesting about sharing pleasure in this way and more so, knowing intimately how Desmond feels about things and vise versa. They might not share thoughts but Desmond doesn't exactly seem like the kind of guy to think heavily while he's getting off, anyways.

“What,” Clay replies and Desmond certainly doesn't stop him from rubbing their soft cock through their pants. He knows they have similar ideas and judging by the shudder that goes down their back when Desmond gets a hint of Clay’s feelings, he's more than open to it. Clay only feels anticipation and simmering arousal from Desmond, not the embarrassed guilt from last time.

“You don't find this weird?” Desmond asks cautiously, keeping his hand balled to their side. They have an unsaid agreement that Desmond gets the right hand and Clay the left- for the most part. Sharing Desmond’s body physical is surprisingly a non-issue in most circumstances.

“If I had my own body, I'd fuck you and I'd certainly still jack off,” Clay assures. “I don't see what the issue is.” Desmond, apparently, has no argument to this. He does wonder if Desmond would have cared anything about him had they met under different circumstances but they hadn't so Clay doesn't linger on the thought.

“When you get your own body,” Desmond murmurs but Clay isn't sure if he's being corrected or if Desmond is alluding to actually wanting to continue to this weird relationship even after their separated. Clay isn't actually sure now _if_ they'll ever be separated.

“Are you going to help me out here or what?” Clay asks. Desmond quickly acts and Clay briefly relinquishes his hand so he can unbutton their jeans and impatiently shimmy them off then he gets both hands. With one, he continues languidly stroking their cock erect and with the other, he follows the curve of Desmond’s stomach under his shirt. To Clay, this is still new. It's a mixture of having to explore his own body all over again, to discover what feels good and what doesn't, and simultaneously discover Desmond’s.

Desmond is a lot hairier than he ever was and following the hairs that line his stomach is less of a trail and more of a road, coarse and dark. He's a little more well endowed than Clay was, too, and his cock is heavy in his hand as it stiffens and swells to full size. The low pants come from a combination of both of them, more Desmond than himself. Clay pushes the waistband of their boxers down under their cock.

The longer he looks, studying it quietly, the more embarrassed Desmond grows. Clay draws his fingers over the shiny, silver bar piercing just under the head, making him jerk his knee at the sensation more than Desmond. There's no doubt in his mind why it's there. Desmond laughs airly, suddenly teasing the piercing much more fully and yanking a sharp gasp from Clay. It is Desmond’s body, he knows what his body likes and though they feel the same things physically, it's processed differently. Clay never had body mods and while Desmond might be used to this, he's not.

They do share sensation though, and Clay moves their fingers away from the piercing before he makes them come. Desmond bites his lip and Clay longs to kiss him but that's not really a possibility like this. When he stops altogether, Desmond becomes a little more alert, watching as Clay reaches for his bag. His curiosity is more tangible than his concern as Clay fishes out the simple metal stick- almost like a decorative stir stick. It’s only a couple inches long, rounded at the end, and only half as thick as a pencil with an orb on the other end for handling.

Clay wasn't exactly discreet when he picked it up in the first place but Desmond isn't exactly the most attentive, either.

“What's that for?” Desmond asks and there's legitimate confusion to the question.

“You'll see,” Clay replies halfly, popping it in his mouth and twisting it with his tongue. The coldness makes Desmond grimace a little. He returns to leisurely stroking his cock, avoiding touching the bar no matter how much Desmond wants that and instead swirling his thumb around the head. There's a bit of disconnect for both of them doing this, the combination of masturbating and simultaneously touching another person offers a strange situation. Certainly neither of them would have the patience alone to take things slow if they were just getting themselves off.

Clay can even feel the impatience growing on Desmond, lingering with an eagerness for what Clay does. He wants more and that, Clay can agree to. With one hand, he rocks his fingertip into the dripping slit of their cock, drawing another shudder from a combination of both of them. With the other, he pulls the metal rod from his mouth now warm and slick with spit. Desmond pants hotly but his anxiety ramps up immediately when Clay glides the length of the bar over his slit.

“Clay,” Desmond murmurs. “What- are you doing?”

“Masturbating,” Clay answers.

“You know what I mean, Clay,” Desmond snaps back. Clay teases the rounded end over his slit, coating the tip in precum, and Desmond is certainly alarmed but makes no effort to still his hands.

“Can I continue?” Clay replies pointedly. He's fairly certain that question doesn't need an actual answer. Desmond isn't that dumb. Still, he doesn't answer immediately and Clay is getting ready to pull it away when he swallows.

“Fine,” Desmond answers shortly, still brimming with uncertainty but his arousal is far more prominent. Clay grins. He drags his thumb and index finger slowly over the head, slick with copious amounts of precum, and Desmond tosses his head back with a small groan. It takes Clay a moment to turn back again, very much trying to see what he's doing while Desmond awkwardly doesn't.

“Relax,” Clay encourages. “Trust me, okay? We are sharing a body, you know.” He doesn't want to hurt Desmond, obviously. At least, he hopes that's obvious. Desmond offers a weak nod, easing up a little as to not pull them as roughly in two directions. Clay rocks the tip of the stick minutely, making Desmond curl his toes, before carefully pushing it in.

“Fuck,” Desmond rasps quietly. It isn't painful, they'd both feel that, but even Clay feels the small discomfort from never having done this with this body before. He moves slowly, the slick precum and saliva allowing it to move easily as he gently bobs it. When Desmond unclenches their teeth, he pushes it in a little further.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Desmond says again, a little more strained this time. Clay pauses, feeling the unevenness of their breath. He knows _how_ Desmond is feeling even if he doesn't know why and while there's nothing overwhelmingly negative, Clay doesn't want to push him into something he doesn't want to do.

“Too much?” he asks, voice heavier than he wants thanks to Desmond. Desmond shakes his head.

“It's fine,” he assures. “I've never- done this before, that's all.”

“Is it weird?” Clay asks.

“A _little_ ,” Desmond replies, his voice pitching. “Keep going.” He means it, Clay can tell, so he keeps going. A little at a time, he pushes the rod deeper into their urethra and flicks his thumb over Desmond’s piercing rhythmically. The discomfort fads quickly, Clay chose something fairly small anyways, and with it, the tenseness that Desmond held in their muscles fads. He pants heavily and tries not to twist too much as he watches the rod disappear little at a time. By the time the little silver ball rests against the tip of his dick, they're a panting mess.

If Clay's not careful, he'll end up making himself come first.

He pauses to let Desmond breath and adjust, a hard thing to do when they're both panting and squirming with pleasure. Clay draws a hand down his chest fondly, squeezing Desmond’s pec in his hand. Desmond’s body is a lot more sensitive than his own was, Clay thinks at least, otherwise it's just been so long since he's truly felt anything that everything feels too sensitive.

“Fuck,” Desmond exhales softly. “This is the weirdest thing I've ever done.”

“Sounding?” Clay questions in amusement. “Really? You have a dick piercing, I thought you'd be into worse things.”

“I kinda meant the having sex with someone who's sharing my brain and body but yeah, the sounding, too, Clay,” Desmond replies irritably. Personally, Clay still isn't sure himself if this is considered sex or masturbation nor is he sure it matters. “Piercings aren't weird anymore.”

“Someone had to put a needle _through_ your dick,” Clay assures.

“Just- fuck- get us off, okay?” Desmond says. Clay laughs airily. That he has no complaints about, either. He strokes their dick more firmly and a shudder goes down their back as Desmond feels the stiff, unrelenting rod under his skin. The other slowly pulls a little of it out by the knob and thrusts it back in, jolting Desmond to the core. Clay groans deeply, finally allowing Desmond to roll their head back with no fight. He's got a pretty good grasp of what he's doing now.

“Desmond,” Clay breathes. He times each thrust with the hand that strokes them, each pass his index finger catching on that silvery bar and making their knees weak. “I want to kiss you, Desmond.” Another shudder takes down their back. “Your mouth, your neck, your chest, your cock. Let you grab my hair and fuck my mouth.”

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Desmond answers shakily, his vocabulary greatly diminished. Clay squeezes their cock, pushing the rod down firmly and feeling the unnatural rigidity in deep. He gradually quickens his wrist with each thrust, fucking Desmond’s hard, throbbing cock to a quickly degrading rhythm. It's impossible to tell anymore which one of them is closer and it doesn't honestly matter, they get the same satisfaction either way.

“Then pin you to the bed and fuck you until you can't walk straight,” Clay groans and Desmond answers him with a heavy grunt.

“Take it out,” he rasps. “I'm- gonna come.” Clay bites his lip briefly but doesn't want to muffle Desmond as he roughly adds a few more thrusts of the rod before he feels that heat in their belly coil beyond reason. He pulls it out all at once and immediately, orgasm washes over them. Desmond pants heavily, punctuated with groans as cum leaks down their cock in rivers. Clay strokes them slowly as they ride it out, easing the pungent pleasure that's rather overwhelming when it's felt by both of them at once.

Before he can do much else, though, like potentially clean them up a bit, Desmond rag dolls and takes Clay with him. They collapse on the bed with softer, easier breaths now and yeah, Clay finds it hard to move Desmond’s body after that, too. All his muscles feel weak. He settles for wiping his hand on the bedsheets, earning an unhappy groan from Desmond, and pets his head. The gesture is strange having to, technically, do it to himself but Desmond hums distantly.

“Not bad, right?” Clay comments.

“Yeah,” Desmond murmurs in agreement. “Was that for you or me?”

“Does it matter?” Clay asks, arching a brow. Desmond makes a face. “It _could_ be for both of us.”

“Uh huh,” he huffs but it's amused at best. He rolls them over, unfortunately, and buries his face in the blankets. Clay guesses this is fine for now. They can shower later when he’s sure that the short walk to the bathroom isn't deadly with jelly legs. Desmond pulls his hand away from his head and knits his fingers together, essentially forcing Clay to occupy one arm by intentionally not doing it himself- holding his hand?

“This is kind of gay,” Clay says under his breath.

“We'll find you another body, Clay,” Desmond assures. “Or something. We'll make it work.” Clay doesn't say anything. It's a nice gesture but Desmond’s dumb as a rock sometimes. He pats the back of his left hand with his right one. Gradually, he drifts to sleep and Clay tries to join him to give their body some rest.

He thinks they're making it work pretty well now, actually.


End file.
